Dress Blues and Second Chances
by Windimere Wellen
Summary: What if Nancy still loved John?
1. Chapter 1

This started out as an introspective look into Nancy – I thought that she still cared about John in the episode Outcast. So this is my take on a few years later – It could technically still be considered canon because it's set after the last episode. I guess I'm a romantic, thinking that maybe John and Nancy still cared about each other.

Also, I had intended this to be a one shot, but I can see that it could be more – but I guess that will depend on what people think about it.

Your reviews and thoughts are welcome.

Lady Winter

* * *

Nancy Allen sat heavily on the bench she'd found on The Mall in the center of Washington D.C. It was only a few blocks from her office at Homeland Security, and she often came during lunch to sit at the reflecting pool or she would wander to the Lincoln Memorial, just to get a breath of fresh air and some perspective.

Sometimes her job as Director was beyond stressful, and having a few minutes to herself was almost intoxicating. Actually getting the chance to take a lunch break came few and far between, so she soaked up those moments. Especially on days like today.

She had actually just come from her lawyer's office. It wasn't the best day she'd ever had – but she supposed that no one who'd ever been divorced had a good day when they signed those final papers.

Nancy sighed outwardly. Two failed marriages. What was worse was that Grant had left her for the same reasons she had left her first husband, John Sheppard. Work. Too much work. And too much secrecy. Granted, it had been slightly different with John. She couldn't take the stress of him being out of contact and in danger that he could never tell her about, having to come and go so unexpectedly without any warning. Grant had no idea how much better he had it – Nancy always answered her phone at least. Still, that apparently wasn't enough to make up for the ridiculously long hours that she was putting in at the office.

It was hard to admit, but part of her knew that she had sabotaged the relationship on purpose. She had loved Grant – yes. But she had realized over time that it was fleeting and pale in comparison to the feelings she'd had for another – and even her marriage to John didn't last with that much love and passion.

So there Nancy sat in the warm afternoon sun, still feeling cold to her core, trying to forget and trying not to feel guilty. It wasn't easy.

She huffed out a sigh and glanced around, wishing for a distraction. It came in an unexpected form – two young boys, racing by her, parents calling after them in annoyance. Nancy watched them tear by, heading for a hot dog vendor further down the path. It sparked an unexpected yearning for a hot dog. She hadn't eaten a hot dog from a street vendor since she'd been with John. These days it was fancy salads, Portobello mushroom sandwiches and organic chicken.

Nancy glanced around, unable to shake the longing and spotted the recognizable red and yellow blocked umbrella that represented a hot dog stand where the little family was now gathered.

Standing stiffly, she smoothed her pencil skirt, straightened her tailored suit jacket and started towards it, her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete as she walked. Nancy was just about fifty feet away when she slowed her pace a little, at first not to appear so eager to eat street food, but then because she spotted something that wasn't entirely out of place on the Mall, but still interesting enough.

Standing near the hotdog stand were two Air Force officers, in their dress blues, and from the distance she could see that they were both heavily decorated, and that one, with gold epulates was a general. But what really caught her attention was the stance of the slightly shorter officer. Despite being so formally dressed, he was slouched ever so slightly, hands dug deep into his pockets, hat tipped just enough to not be properly regulation. And he looked comfortable in a way that no officer ever looked in his dress blues.

Nancy stopped in her tracks, almost causing the power-walker behind her to smash into her. As it was, the woman swore at her loudly, but moved past, arms pumping and muttering about bimbos.

Nancy didn't care. She knew she would recognize that easy, comfortable stance anywhere. It was John. Her John. Her…ex-John.

What in the world was he doing there, in Washington? And what was he doing with a Brigadier General?

She'd last seen John a little more than two years ago, right there in Washington. Just a few days before that, she'd gone to his father's funeral, partly out of respect for Patrick Sheppard, because even after the divorce, he had always been kind to her, and partly because she was desperately hoping to see John. Looking back on it now, she knew she was crazy to have done something like that. Grant had been really unhappy with the situation and even Nancy had to admit that her intentions were less than honorable.

That was the problem with John Sheppard. Despite the fact that they had divorced, it hadn't been because they hadn't loved each other. Of course, it had been very complicated. John had loved his job almost as much as he'd loved Nancy – and he had finally found something in his life that he was not only good at, but that had real purpose, something she knew he'd been searching for. She didn't begrudge him that, but she couldn't handle the waiting and the worrying. Just before they had signed the final papers, John had asked her if she would stay with him if he asked to be reassigned – to come back stateside and work at Peterson, or maybe at the Academy. Nancy had been sorely tempted to say yes, but she knew that it would kill him, and he wouldn't be the man she loved. The consequences of both of their actions were just too great, so she'd let him go – but she'd never stopped loving him.

That fact had really irritated her. She had been so angry with John – for neglecting their marriage, for not knowing how to make it work. So she had buried that love under as many layers of anger as she could.

It took all of that to convince herself that she no longer loved John Sheppard. And then she'd met Grant and thought that she'd fallen head over heels for him. What wasn't to love about him? He was good looking, smart, and grounded. He had a successful job in law that he was serious about, but loved to take her on trips and spoil her. He was stable. John couldn't give her stable. So, she'd married him, but soon enough she realized that she'd rushed things. But that was all water under the bridge now.

She had known the minute that she'd wore her favorite black dress to Patrick's funeral that she was no longer in love with Grant. Why else would she be so careful to make sure to look good on the off chance that her ex-husband, who was estranged from his family, would miraculously appear at his father's funeral? She knew full well that he and Patrick hadn't been on speaking terms and that neither Patrick or David had been able to get any information on his whereabouts in several years.

Still, she had gone, saw him and his large, imposing friend and had been left feeling unfulfilled. As usual, their conversation had been stilted and uncomfortable, but she could see the pain and confusion in his eyes, and felt pity for him. She remembered the nights she had listened as he'd poured his heart out about disappointing his father and being all but disowned. Still, John never made anything easy for her. And then he'd shown up in Washington, asking for her help.

At first, Nancy had been furious that he would dare come to her after being gone for so long – and then, to have the nerve to ask her to risk her job… It seemed too much

She couldn't help herself and had to get her digs in at him when he'd met her, but he took it like he always did, with an apologetic smile and a sincerity that never ceased to take her breath away, and she had helped him, just like he'd known she would. She felt like putty in his hands, but was powerless to change that.

She'd found what he was looking for easily enough, but realized right away that he was taking a huge risk and she couldn't help but do a little digging on John himself. What she found hadn't really surprised her – whatever it was that John was involved in, it was deep, it was dark, and it was dangerous – and he seemed to be right at the heart of it. It had unexpectedly chilled her to the bone

She'd met him, feeling like she was sneaking off to meet a lover, and couldn't help but imply that she was worried about him. The moment in the car had been so poignant. He'd sat there and tried to casually brush her concern away.

"You know me," he'd said, looking tired and emotionally spent, but tried to lighten the mood.

Nancy couldn't help it. She told him that was exactly what the problem was – just how well she knew him.

And then he was gone without a trace again, disappearing into whatever curtain of silence that was covering him.

But the day after, she'd arrived at her office to find a gift basket waiting for her. It was full of all her favorite things – Godiva Chocolates, an off brand of hot-cocoa that Grant probably didn't even know existed, a box of Girl Scout cookies – Thin Mints (where had he gotten those this time of year? It wasn't the season!), several Cadbury Eggs (again, not the season), a bottle of New York Finger Lakes Champagne, a bottle of red wine from her favorite Napa Valley winery, and tickets to the ballet, nestled along with a dozen red calla lilies. She had sat at her desk and cried, clutching the tiny note that simply read 'Thank you' in John's strangely precise scrawl.

She didn't dare bring it home – she didn't want to fight with Grant. Before she'd gone to the funeral, he'd already suggested that he thought she still kindled a flame for her ex-husband – an accusation that she'd violently disagreed with. Looking back, she'd seen Grant shake his head and mouth the words 'Me thinks that thou doest protest too much.'

And then there was nothing. Nancy had assumed that being a Director at Homeland Security would get her somewhere with top secret information – after all, that was why John had come to her – but anything regarding her ex-husband was locked up so tight that she realized looking too hard would put her on a terrorist watch list – and that would just be embarrassing.

So, Nancy had settled for asking Dave to keep her updated. Apparently John had visited his older brother after whatever he'd been working on had finished up, and before disappearing into the wild blue yonder again.

Nancy had been surprised the day Dave had called to tell her about the awkward yet rewarding visit that the two brothers had had. Thing still weren't entirely better, but they had cleared the air about a lot of things, and although John was unable to tell Dave anything about what he was doing, he'd promised to communicate as often as his difficult posting allowed.

Dave had been surprised when Nancy had asked, very hesitantly, if he would be willing to share when John communicated and she remembered him asking suspiciously if everything between she and Grant was alright. Airily, she'd assured him that she and Grant were just marvelous – and David had accepted the lie as gracefully as any Sheppard did.

But he had been true to his word and would email her when he heard from John, sometimes forwarding on his brother's emails, and sometimes just giving her snippets. And he would email when he was worried. When he didn't hear from John. It happened more than either Dave or Nancy liked. Together, they commiserated over a man that both of them had lost and wished to regain, and Dave had been the first person Nancy had told about her impending divorce with Grant. He hadn't seemed surprised, but was graceful enough to offer his apologies and support.

Recently, she hadn't heard anything from Dave, not in a few weeks at least. She thought for sure that if John was coming home, Dave would have told her, and for a moment, she grew angry, seeing John there, just yards away, wondering if he could be so cold as to have not told his only brother that he had surfaced from wherever it was that he was hiding all the time. Then she grew worried. What if Dave hadn't told her because he didn't think she needed John's kind of trouble? Or that John didn't need her kind of trouble?

After all, why would John want to see his ex-wife?

Nancy couldn't help but wonder that as she stood there in the middle of the path as the two officers ate their hot dogs and shared a laugh about something. The general reach out and patted John on the shoulder in the way a father would a son that he was proud of and then reached out to shake John's hand. John seemed slightly embarrassed by the attention, but smiled at the General, and then stepped back a foot or so and sharply saluted the man. When the general returned the salute, he turned just enough that Nancy caught sight of his face.

She knew him instantly. General Jack O'Neill. Everyone one knew General O'Neill – he was as well respected as he was difficult when it came to supporting his command and his men. Nancy had met him once at a Statehouse dinner and had been more than impressed with his sarcastic wit and his easy going demeanor.

She couldn't help but wonder how he knew John – especially considering that they seemed friendly enough, with an air of comfortable familiarity.

As she wondered, General O'Neill shook John's hand goodbye and headed off in the opposite direction, leaving John to wander towards the reflecting pool, one hand still stuffed in his pocket, as he lifted his right hand to check his watch.

Nancy still stood, frozen in place, realizing that she probably looked stupid and lost to those around her, but she was faced with too much indecision, not sure what she should do. When he turned his head slightly towards her, she panicked and stepped off the path, into the grass, feeling her heel sink into the soft earth, but she moved further until she was standing next to a cherry tree, the shadow of its leaves obscuring her enough that John would have to squint into the sun, and still wouldn't easily recognize her. She breathed an unexpected sigh of relief as she realized she'd gone unnoticed.

It gave her the rare opportunity to observe John Sheppard unnoticed. He was a hard man to catch unawares – but there, out in the open, in public, prying eyes could seek him out easily enough. Nancy took advantage of the situation.

He didn't look quite as worn as he had the last time she'd seen him – but some of that exhaustion she'd seen on his face then no doubt had something to do with his father's death. He looked older than when they'd been married of course, but he still maintained some sort of youthful exuberance, though the lines on his face were a little bit deeper with cares he carried.

John moved slightly, shifting his weight and briefly removed his cap, splaying one hand through his hair in a movement that Nancy recognized as automatic and unconscious, and she thought she noted just a sprinkling of gray in his hair. Were they really that old now? Then his hand trailed down to the back of his neck, hesitating slightly there – and this was a tell Nancy recognized – nerves – preparation for the unexpected.

She cocked her head to one side, wondering what he was anxious about. Then John replaced the cap, still just slightly crooked, enough to say that he still obeyed the rules by wearing his cover in public while in uniform, but made it entirely his own. John had always had a respect for the rules – and he liked to mold them to fit him if possible.

That was something Nancy had always loved about him.

Nancy couldn't help but scan the rest of his body with her eyes. It was almost an automatic response. She remembered doing it every time he came through the door, home from a mission. John would always try to hide his injuries, big or small, never wanting to worry her, so she'd become adept at watching his body for any tell tale signs. She vaguely remembered the cuts, bruises, and broken bones she'd seen while they were married.

Now, as he leaned a little to the right, she caught the slightest hitch in his breathing and the way one hand hovered just close to his rib cage, as if he was prepared to wrap his arm around if necessary. Everything else in his stance radiated readiness and ease, but she could tell he was hurting – somewhere in his chest.

Unexpectedly, she shuddered.

John shifted a bit and checked his watch for the second time and it dawned on Nancy that he was waiting for someone. Despite the fact that she knew she should return to her office, now she just couldn't tear herself away. She had to see just who he was meeting.

Another few minutes passed, and she watched the Colonel perch on a yellow painted pole, one leg up on a concrete block impeded in the ground in a casual manner that totally went against his perfectly pressed uniform. Two girls on rollerblades passed him by and Nancy gaped when the girls didn't even bother hiding their interest, blatantly checking out the good looking Colonel along the path.

Unexpectedly, she wished they would trip and fall.

She hated to admit it, but John was as good looking now as he had been, if not just a little better. He'd aged well - and like some men, he just seemed to become better looking with time. Gone was the baby face, but it was replaced by a chiseled jaw and an incredibly confident air.

Nancy had always loved John in his dress uniform – he had always taken her breath away. It sounded silly, and a little cliché, but she couldn't help it. John had always been rakishly good looking – simply attractive in one of those undeniable ways. Women had always checked John out – and he could be so devilishly flirty that it wasn't funny.

Nancy remembered how emphatically people had told her what beautiful children they would have.

She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes for a moment.

"You're really starting to lose it Nancy," she chided herself quietly. "You sign formal divorce papers this morning, and then you spend the afternoon spying on your ex-husband who you've managed to convince yourself you've never stopped loving," she spat in a whisper.

She was about to continue her disgusted ravings when she noted John stiffen up a little, and watched him tug at his uniform jacket as if it was suddenly out of place, although he looked as impeccable as he had when standing with General O'Neill.

Nancy looked around, trying to figure out what had initiated his change in posture, and then spotted a familiar face making his way towards John. It was David Sheppard.

Nancy closed her opened jaw and clenched her teeth. John had been waiting for Dave! Dave had known John was back from whatever mission he was on – and worse yet, that John was going to be in DC – and he had neglected to tell her. Nancy was floored and angry.

In front of her, the two brothers greeted each other, awkwardly at first, just shaking hands, but then, as if agreeing together somehow, they moved into a hug, and then they were a foot apart again, but they were both grinning, the awkward moment gone, and Dave was beaming at John – and John was beaming right back.

They seemed happy. Normal.

That sucked through Nancy like a double edged sword. Dave and John had made peace somehow. After all those years of not understanding each other and letting their father keep them apart, the two brothers who had once been inseparable, had managed to find their way back to each other.

It stung more than in should have and Nancy stood there, wracked with guilt for being angry and jealous at their obvious reunion.

Part of her hated John for so easily forgiving David – she remembered his heartbroken confessions of how badly he missed his older brother. She recalled the un-returned phone calls and the superior lectures at Sheppard Family gatherings – never so harsh or mean as Patrick Sheppard's, but worse in the way that John truly respected Dave – and had wanted to please him. While Patrick Sheppard had made John angry, David had made him feel guilty.

The other part of her hated David. She had basically bared her soul to the business man, trusting him as a good friend and had literally all but said the words "I think I might still love John." She had trusted him. And now, here he was, meeting John, in Washington where she lived and worked, and David hadn't even told her.

Suddenly feeling very foolish – like a teenager with an obsessive crush – Nancy tore her eyes away.

It was like a crushing weight on her chest. She had lost Grant and now was just realizing that a stupid fantasy of somehow finding a way to rekindle her relationship with John was ridiculous.

For considering herself a relatively intelligent and grounded individual, she had obviously let things get out of hand. Did she really miss John so much that it had come to this? Had she been living with the regret of leaving him all this time? The regret of never knowing if it could have worked? Nancy could admit that she might have rushed things – especially when he'd offered to give up everything he cared about for her.

She knew now that there could have been other options, but in the heat of the moment – with all that paranoia, anger, and pent up fear and frustration, she had thought divorce the best option.

What was worse was finding out later how their divorce had further ripped John from his family. Patrick Sheppard had thought that marrying Nancy had been the best thing John could have ever done – and he was beyond angry when he found out that John had let Nancy get away.

Over and over, despite her anger with John, Nancy had always defended him to Patrick. She knew how to handle the cantankerous old mogul. So she wouldn't just argue with him outright, she would choose her battle's carefully. And no matter how angry she was with John, she refused to let Patrick see that. She just laughed their divorce off. It hadn't been easy.

Standing there now, seeing John and David be happy and comfortable with each other made Nancy realize just how much she'd lost.

She watched for a few minutes more, almost unable to tear her eyes away from John, trying to memorize the way he looked now, afraid she'd never see him again.

The two men exchanged conversation, and then David produced some papers and handed them to John, and the two men spent the next few moments going over them. Nancy fought down her curiosity and forced herself to turn away.

She had spied on them for too long and had lost any nerve she might have had to approach them, despite the burning desire in her stomach to do so.

Instead, Nancy forced herself to walk away, relieved when she was back on the path, and she picked up her pace, hustling to move faster, and when she was far enough away, she ran. It wasn't easy in heels, but she had a sudden need to escape, and she ran almost all the way back to her office, oblivious to the strange looks she garnered as she rushed by in her business attire.

Her office had never seemed safer when she finally got there, and her assistant, somehow sensing her distress, appeared moments later with a steaming cup of tea and a blueberry muffin.

"You look pale," she explained with a shrug.

"Thank you, Anita," Nancy said gratefully, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug.

She sat there for another half an hour, doing nothing, then forced herself to get back to some reports that she was reviewing, trying to push her slowly down-spiraling day out of her mind.

The day wore on, and eventually, Nancy was able to absorb herself in work when Anita knocked softly on the door, and poked her head in.

"There's an Air Force Officer here to see you," she said, glancing back over her shoulder, presumably to be sure that the officer in question was still there. It gave Nancy a moment to cover the panic that she was sure must be covering her face.

_Relax Nancy! _ She demanded of herself. Every day she met with and dealt with members of the armed services – it went hand and hand with her job – even if most of the time they made appointments ahead of time. She was silly to think that there was even a chance that it was John.

"A Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard," Anita answered, glancing back at Nancy finally, and it was too late for Nancy to school her expression. "Nancy! Are you alright?" Anita asked quickly, stepping into the office fully and letting the door shut behind her, rushing to her boss' side. Nancy blinked up at her in surprise. "You look like you're about to faint," the younger woman said worriedly.

"No…no, it's alright," she said, searching for a way to explain her strange behavior. Anita looked alarmed – and rightly so. Very little ruffled the feathers of her boss. Nancy was silent for a moment, but no words came to excuse her behavior. "I'm fine, just…show him in," she said quickly, quickly swallowing down the rest of her tea – now cold and bitter.

"Are you sure? I could ask him to come back…" Anita suggested.

"No!" Nancy said quickly, a thrill of fear racing through her body at the thought of having John sent away.

Anita looked at her in surprise, but nodded. "Do you…need a moment? I can get him some coffee…"

"Yes, that's a good idea. He likes it black – one sugar," she commented absently and just barely kept herself from slamming her hand over her mouth. Anita was looking at her dubiously.

"I'll let the Colonel know you'll just be a moment…" the girl said suspiciously, and then ducked out.

Nancy leaned back in her chair, her hands coming up to her face as she sat there, breathing deeply. John was there? In the outer office? To see her?

"He probably just wants another favor," she reasoned, steeling herself to be more firm with him this time. She wouldn't let him convince her to risk her job again. At least she would try really hard not to. "What is he doing here?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Not a few hours ago, she'd been angry at the idea of not seeing him – and now, she was acting like a spooked kitten. At least it was here, in her office – on her own turf. If she'd actually run into him on The Mall, it could have been much more awkward. Here, she could be in control. Except that she had no idea why he was there. Which automatically put the ball in his court.

She cursed under her breath at the fact that somehow, he always seemed to get the upper hand.

She must have wasted a lot on time thinking because suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and she knew that despite how odd she was acting, Anita still would have given her ample time to pull herself together.

Frantically, Nancy smoothed her hair down, and straightened her jacket. "Come in," she finally called, deciding if she stayed sitting, she'd look more in control of the situation – of her office.

Just a second later, Anita opened the door, and ushered John Sheppard in.

"Director Allen," she said by way of introduction, although she guessed that the Air Force Colonel and her boss already knew each other, judging by Nancy's earlier reaction. "And this is Colonel Sheppard," she announced, then gracefully stepped back and out, although she would have loved to be a fly on the wall to figure out just what was going on with her boss.

Nancy didn't even see the young woman leave. Her eyes were riveted on John as she tried to look less than surprised. He stepped further into the room, his cover in held in front of him in both hands, looking as formal as he might if appearing before a board of his superiors, and Nancy noted with some satisfaction that he looked a little anxious. Outwardly, it was hard to tell, but she could see a tightening around his eyes and noted the firm squaring of his shoulders that had little to do with the fact that he was in his dress uniform.

Still, he was smiling – and that smile was dangerous. It wasn't the killer, melt-your –heart right through the soles of your shoes smile (although she loved that one too). It was the slightly lopsided, too friendly smile – the smile that he reserved for people he knew and cared about. Nancy had thought she'd never see that exact smile again – at least not directed at her.

"Hello Nancy," he said as way of greeting.

"John…I had no idea you were back in the States!" she said, trying to act surprised so he would have no idea she'd seen him earlier.

John chuckled. "Yes…back in the States," he murmured, as if those words were so far from the truth that no one would believe him even if he said he was stationed on a space station.

She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at him. "Still with the secrets I see," she replied, but none of the bite that could have accompanied those words came through.

"You know me," he said, and it was reminiscent of the last time they'd spoken, though now he looked much better than he had then – cleanly shaven, looking like he'd gotten a week's worth of 8-hour nights, and dressed smartly in his perfect uniform.

Normally a comment like that from him would have drawn a retort from her, but she couldn't bring herself to be mean. Maybe she was too tired – or maybe she just wanted the same peace with John that David had seemed to attain.

"Yes, I do know," she replied, though her tone was soft. "It's nice to see you," she admitted, standing so she could extend her hand. Privately, she was pleased when he looked caught off guard – that wasn't easy to do to John Sheppard.

He shook her hand over the desk and smiled at her warmly, this time a more smoldering grin that he used when he was up to something, and she had to fight the wary urge that she felt instantly.

"It's nice to see you too," he agreed, then withdrew his hand to run it through his unruly hair. Nancy couldn't help thinking how some things never changed. Still, this was going much better than their encounter at the wake. John seemed…much more confident in his interactions with her.

She wasn't sure if it was because he wasn't grieving for his father, or in "hostile" territory, or because he was in dress uniform that was giving him the sense of security, but it was a whole lot easier to talk to him this way.

"What no…body guard this time?" she asked, recalling the large, dread-locked man that had been with John at his father's wake. She'd been amused at the way the giant had sized her up like she could possibly be a threat – more specifically, a threat to John. She had instantly sensed his loyalty to her ex-husband.

John chuckled again. "No, Ronon's not with me this time," he supplied.

"So, not to cut straight to the chase, but what brings you here – to me," she asked, wincing inwardly at the way she'd chosen to end the sentence, so quickly, she babbled on. "Looking for more classified information?" she shot out, a little more harshly than she had meant to.

John took her tone in stride and cocked his head to one side in obvious amusement. How, after all these years, he could read her so well, Nancy had no idea.

"Actually, part of the reason I came was to thank you for your help," he told her, and before she could say that the basket had been more than enough, he continued on. "And I came to offer my…condolences about Greg…I mean Grant," he corrected quickly, and Nancy felt her ire rise. Placatingly, John held out one white-gloved hand. "But, I know you're about to tell me to shut up, so I'd also like to apologize for even bringing it up," he finished smoothly, an apologetic half-smile on his face.

She saw reflected in his eyes the pain she now felt at having been left. What she had done to John, Grant had done to her.

Nancy sighed in obvious discomfort.

"Surely you didn't come all the way here just to tell me sorry that I'm getting…I got divorced…" she said aloud before she could stop the thoughts from forming sound.

John smiled in amusement again.

"Actually, no – I didn't. I hope this isn't tacky," he added quickly, his hand finding the back of his neck, rubbing gently at the base of his hairline. "You obviously know Dave's getting married this coming weekend…?" he trailed off as if he had the correct information but was still uncertain of how genuine it was.

Nancy offered half a curse in her mind. Of course! Dave's upcoming wedding! How had she forgotten? Of course that's why John was home – David was getting married to Claire, his business partner and girlfriend of four years.

"Yes, yes of course," she responded crisply, as if she hadn't forgotten the invitation pinned to her refrigerator. "On Saturday – in Virginia at your father's Apple Farm," she rattled off, trying to remember what she'd ordered for dinner, even as the full impact of the memory of having to reply as a single to something that most people went as couple's to – it was particularly painful.

"Dave said you were coming, and well, I'm kind of in the wedding…" he told her, shifting ever so slightly.

Nancy was surprised – Dave hadn't mentioned that.

"…the best man," John continued, looking a bit sheepish and a bit proud all at once. "But I don't have a date, and, well, I thought you might want an escort," he finally finished, and he looked her in the eye. It wasn't what she'd been expecting, considering his line of conversation. She'd more expected him to say something about hoping it wouldn't be too awkward between them.

Nancy forgot to breathe for a moment. Part of her wanted to yell at him, especially because in a way, he was making her feel stupid. After all, she didn't want to be reminded that she was as alone as she'd ever been. The rest of her couldn't believe that he would actually ask. She was a little afraid that it was just his hero complex – that he had to help the creature in need.

But as he looked into her eyes, she couldn't help but see only sincerity there – only the request, with no ulterior motive.

"Purely honorable, of course," John rambled on when she didn't speak, twitching his hands as he spoke, his cover gripped tightly as he became more animated. She never remembered him speaking with his hands before. "If it's a stupid idea, just say so…" he added.

Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and grasped his free hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'd really like that John," she said, pleased at how steady her voice sounded when she was finally able to speak.

John gaped at her for a moment, and then began to grin. It was that cocky grin that she'd fallen in love with – the one that said "I can take on the world – just watch me" – the one that made girls trip over their own feet – the one that got him almost anything he wanted.

"Great," he said, and she was surprised that he didn't just crow about his victory. Instead, his voice was even and genuine. Nancy suddenly realized that John had grown up – he wasn't just a young man, out flying helicopters on dangerous missions because there was thrill and challenge involved. The man standing before her was a Lieutenant Colonel – and a highly decorated one at that. It was only then that Nancy noted just how heavy his jacket was with honors – nothing like she'd last seen. "It'll be my honor," he said formally.

Nancy blinked at him, and smiled, watching an odd change in his eyes, as if he was melting on the inside just as much as she was.

"I think it will be my honor to be on the arm of such an important and distinguished Air Force Colonel," she returned the compliment, and was rewarded by pink creeping up into his cheeks.

She leaned over her desk, aware suddenly that as gentlemanly as he may have appeared up until that point, he was suddenly checking her out when he thought he wasn't being observed. The thought brought heat to her own cheeks, but she was more than flattered. Quickly, she scrawled her address and phone number on the back of her business card, and straightened up, hoping to catch him in the act, but John was too good for that, and stood there, almost at attention.

"The wedding's at three, so you'll…pick me up at Noon?" she asked, thinking about the drive.

"What if I pick you up at 9 and take you for breakfast? And we…make a day out of it?" he asked hopefully, as if he knew he was pushing his luck.

Nancy felt tears gather in her eyes. Grant hated going out for breakfast. It was always protein shakes and a banana…and out the door. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a waffle.

"I know this great little Italian bakery…" she said in response, managing to keep the emotion out of her voice. "They…make an amazing waffle," she said, catching her own sheepish tone.

John beamed at her. "I'll be there at 9am," he promised, and she didn't worry, because he was never late for things when he told you just what time he'd been there. "Until then, take care of yourself, Nancy," and the way he said her name made her weak in the knees.

She nodded, but was too stunned to do more, and he let himself out.

For a few minutes, she sat there in silence before Anita tentatively poked her head in the door. "Nancy…are you ok?" she questioned, glancing back out the door like she thought John was going to reappear. "Did you know that Colonel?"

Nancy laughed shortly. "Oh yes, I know him. And oh no – I'm not ok. I think I've lost my mind," she said absently.

Anita looked at her in confusion. "I don't understand. Did he do something…? Should I…?" she trailed off, having no idea what she was trying to ask.

"Oh no, he didn't do anything except be as completely frustrating as he always is. Anita, what am I going to do? I just agreed to go on a date with my ex-husband!"


	2. Chapter 2

Alright – you've all convinced me to continue…so, if you can bear with me and I can keep up, I'll flesh this out a little more. I hope to include a little fun action and some meet and greet with the team and hopefully Nancy coming to find out what it is that John is up to.

I'm thinking this will have to be set after the finale with Atlantis in the Pacific, so that it makes sense for John to be there.

This chapter might be a little slow, but it's getting me where I want to go, so I hope you enjoy it.

As always, your thoughts are appreciated.

Lady Winter

* * *

Nancy sat in her living room, cuddled into the plush couch she'd just bought a week or so ago. She'd been living in the two bedroom loft apartment for close to two months now, but was just getting around to furnishing it.

Grant had offered her the house in the divorce proceedings, which Nancy had to admit had been very tame. She had refused. The memory of John giving up their house without a fight plagued her. She had taken in with glee, but after just a month of living there by herself, surrounded by memories they'd made together, with the reality that not only was he not coming home, but knowing that she wouldn't even be privy to the knowledge of whether or not he ever made it home had driven her to sell it right away.

She didn't want that again. It had been horrible. So, she'd graciously declined and found a nice apartment in a good part of town. It had been a welcome distraction as Nancy had thrown herself into decorating it. It had been a while since it had been just her, in her own place, decorating just how she liked. Grant had a lot of opinions about decorating, and John had had none, but she had tried to please them both.

Now, she was able to please herself, and although she liked it, the place still seemed lonely some days.

Sitting there, on a Friday night by herself, the loneliness crept up. So, she'd nestled into the couch with a steaming cup of hot chocolate and had put Pride & Prejudice in the DVD player.

Normally, it was a movie that distracted and soothed her into forgetting her concerns at work or with Grant. But nothing seemed to be distracting her from her impending date with John in the morning.

In fact, Nancy hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since her run in with him on Wednesday. She still couldn't get over the fact that John had shown up at her office with the most surprising request she'd had in a while – to be allowed to escort her to his brother's wedding.

John had done a lot of things since she'd known him that surprised her, but this was certainly out of the realm of what she could have even fathomed.

Wednesday, after confessing to Anita that she'd just made a date with her ex-husband, she'd all but dropped what she was doing and fled the office. She'd left Anita behind with unanswered messages and no answers in regards to her odd behavior.

Nancy had felt bad, but John had shaken her, and she didn't like feeling so flustered, especially at work, so she just had to leave. She thought by the time she'd had dinner and a glass or two of wine that she'd feel better, but she had just been jittery instead.

Thursday at work had been no different. Anita had come into her office a little before lunch and looked at her suspiciously.

"Nancy, are you going to tell me what's really going on?" she had asked seriously. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"What?" Nancy had asked, totally surprised by the young woman's line of questioning.

Anita had hesitated then, as if she was about to cross the boss-employee line. "I'm just confused. A Colonel comes to see you, you look like you've seen a ghost, and then after he leaves, you look half spooked and half like the cat that got the canary…and then you try to tell me that you're going on a date with Mr. Allen, which makes no sense since you told me you just signed divorce papers…." The girl said in a confused rush, obviously concerned she was about to be reprimanded for prying.

Nancy had looked at her in surprise and then couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh. Anita has been the best assistant she'd ever had, and she dared to think that they were even friends, which was probably where her sudden concern for Nancy's wellbeing had come from.

"Did I really look that bad?" she'd finally asked.

Anita had nodded, eyes round. "Yes, I thought you were going to faint or cry…or burst into hysterical laughter," she admitted.

Nancy sighed. "I was just caught off guard. That man – the Colonel – that was my ex-husband. My…first ex-husband," she clarified at the brief look of confusion on her assistant's face.

Anita's eyes grew wider. "That hot Air Force Colonel was your ex-husband?" she gasped out before she could chose a better set of words. Nancy had felt two odd sensations flit through her mind – the first was a possessive jealously of John, and the second was that catty feeling that women got when they knew that other women wanted what they had. Anita was too busy looking contrite for her choice of words to notice.

Nancy had laughed. "John certainly could always catch the eye of any woman he walked past. He's like a magnet," she added, trying to spare the girl further embarrassment, but Anita's face just grew redder.

"I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have said that…"

"It's alright Anita. I'll be the first to admit that John is…better than average looking," she'd said, trying to reign in other words she'd rather use. Like dashing. Or incredibly sexy. Or dark and dangerous. But she couldn't say anything like that or Anita would think she'd been drugged or something crazy.

Anita snorted, then her hand had flown to her mouth, shocked at another outburst.

Nancy laughed. "All right, fair enough. Average doesn't even begin to cover it," she said guiltily, wondering how wrong it was to find your ex-husband still incredibly attractive.

"Well, I'm impressed," the girl had finally responded, trying to get herself under control, and Nancy couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at the girl's choice of words, but she knew where they stemmed from.

Grant. He was good looking, but in a polished, business sort of way. He was traditionally handsome, but rather cookie cutter, like many professional men. John was ruggedly handsome – and that was entirely different, and entirely more attractive to some types of women. After their divorce, Nancy had sworn she'd only let herself be attracted to clean-cut, pressed and responsible types. Not that John wasn't responsible – at least, he wasn't completely irresponsible. But the concept was there. Grant had been…safe.

Nancy had decided not to be offended by Anita's impression of Grant.

"Well, back in the day, I could hook me a hottie," Nancy tried to joke. Anita smiled strangely down at her.

"You're still incredibly beautiful, Nancy. Don't think I don't see the way men look at you," she said with an eyebrow wiggle that had Nancy laughing. "I'm being serious. You're a tough act to follow at state dinners and Presidential dinners," Anita had said seriously. Nancy recalled being surprised. Of course, Anita always attended with her, and it was Nancy's duty to look as lovely and professional as possible at these occasions. Apparently, Anita got to see more than Nancy did.

"That's very sweet of you Anita," Nancy had conceded.

"So, I don't see what's so bad with going out with the really hot, very decorated, most likely heroic Lieutenant Colonel. Didn't you know times are changing? My Dad's been courting my mom for like six months now – and they've been divorced 14 years!" she'd proclaimed.

Nancy had looked at her in surprise. Was that kind of thing really normal now?

"Is it…working?" she asked, more uncertain than she had wished to sound.

Anita smiled at her kindly. "Yes, it is. I think they missed each other all this time," she'd said a bit wistfully. Then after a moment, she spoke again. "It looks like you…still care about him. Or, if you don't, you're acting very strange," she commented, flushing a little. "But if you do – you shouldn't let this opportunity get away from you," she'd suggested. Then, with another smile, she'd left Nancy on her own.

Nancy had to admit that she got very little done the rest of the day. She was grateful that Anita hadn't dug too deep or asked personal questions – like why she and John had divorced. She could barely explain it to herself in a way that truly made sense after all these years of being apart.

Still, even if she wanted to reconcile with John – would he even consider wanting to reconcile with her?

That was the question that Nancy was pondering, curled up on her couch, wishing that she could be more distracted by the lives of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy than her own.

The nagging questions wouldn't leave her alone.

Why had John come to ask her to the wedding? Did he feel pity for her because of the divorce? Was he trying to mock her? Was he just being a gentleman? Had David asked him – or worse yet, forced him?

Did John hate her after the divorce? Did he still hate her now? Was there even the slightest chance that he would want to be with her again? Could he even forgive her for leaving him? For asking for the divorce? For not trying to meet him halfway when he'd tried?

Had she completely lost her mind?

She had to admit, it was possible.

Frustrated, she got up off the couch and stalked into the kitchen, glaring at the answering machine on the counter. She'd been too timid to give John her cell number, but she had given him the apartment line, and when she'd gotten home from work, there were two messages waiting for her.

The first was unexpected. It was from Grant, asking her to join him for lunch so he could give her a few items that she'd left at the house that must have been missed when she moved out – and so "they could both have some closure," - his words, not hers.

The second was equally as unexpected. It was John – and in his even tenor, he had cheerfully reminded her that he would be there to meet her at 9 and not to worry, telling her they had plenty of time to return to change into appropriate wedding attire before they left for the wedding.

Somehow, it surprised her that he'd thought of that. She'd been wondering what to wear in the morning, not sure if she should dress for the wedding or if they would be able to change later. John had never seemed to think of those things before.

After listening to his voice again, she tried to scrutinize it for any tells that might answer her questions, but if John Sheppard was good at anything, it was keeping his cards close to his chest. Nancy had a good feeling that she had seen more of who he truly was than most people that had known him longer – but that was because they'd been in love – and he'd trusted her.

Sighing aloud, she set down her mug of hot chocolate and went into her bedroom to look at the dress she had already bought for the following day. It was a dark purple in rich satin that criss-crossed across her chest and flowed out just a little around her hips.

John had always said he loved her in purple – something about what it did to her eyes, and she blushed furiously, by herself in the empty room. She hoped he wouldn't think she'd gotten the dress just for him – she'd bought it over a month ago after she'd RSVP'd in anticipation of the wedding.

"Wow, Nance – you're really cracking up," she muttered to herself. "You're way ahead of yourself here," she scolded. Exactly how far ahead of herself though, she wasn't sure.

She wasn't sure where the line blurred. Where did she go from being excited about seeing her ex-husband to her having a serious issue of maybe still being in love with him?

That just led to more questions like – who was she really in love with? The man she'd married? The man she'd divorced? The man he had clearly turned into?

She didn't exactly know John now, and it was very clear that he had changed – a lot or a little, she couldn't be sure. On the other hand, just from looking at him, she knew there was still quite a bit of him that she knew – intimately.

He still had the same nervous habits. He still wore his hair the same way. He still stood and slouched exactly like she remembered.

Nancy had seen something different in his eyes though – something a bit harder. He'd always known the realities of life in a way that most couldn't experience – having fought and killed for his life and the lives of others had given John a perspective that Nancy couldn't share. Still, there was something sharper in his eyes – like he'd seen even more than he ever had before, and she could believe that.

Had that changed him? How could it not change him?

Something in his posture, though relaxed, had spoken volumes to Nancy. It was something so self-assured that she guessed that John had finally found his place in the world – and that made her happy. It also made her doubt that there would be any room for her in it.

Just what was she thinking, hoping for a reconciliation? That John was just going to give up the new life he'd found, where he was obviously very important, to come back to Washington and live with her? That was ridiculous. Was she willing to give up her career and go to him? Would she even be allowed to do that?

Nancy kicked at her bed in frustration and stubbed her toe.

"Oww!" she proclaimed loudly, hoping around until she fell on the bed. Lying there, clutching her foot as far up her body as she could, she began to laugh.

"John Sheppard waltzes back into my life and I fall to pieces," she said with a laugh. A year or two ago and that laugh would have been bitter, but now she was just amused.

"How typical," she groused, massaging her stubbed toe. "I'm a basket case around him. Only heaven knows how I ever got anything done with him around."

But that had been part of the fun. John had made her forget everything when he was around. He had a way of making almost anything fun – and he was always so good at distracting her from anything unpleasant. If it wasn't his personality wreaking havoc on the more serious parts of their lives, it was his downright good looks and their obvious chemistry – he had been nothing short of the best lover that Nancy had ever had.

Feeling that familiar ache of wanting to be held and loved, Nancy sighed heavily. She forced herself up off the bed, realizing it was already much later than she'd thought. Carefully, she dug into her closet to find something to wear the next morning, and was soon amused at how picky she was being.

She could almost hear John's voice in her head. "Come on Nance, its just breakfast. The waffles won't care if you're wearing sweats," he used to joke as he leaned in the doorway of their room while she would search for clothes. He was never irritated though. He never rushed her.

Shaking her head, Nancy dug out a pair of dark jeans she hadn't worn in a while and piled them with her favorite gray sweater, and glanced at a tall pair of black boots that would go perfectly. Breakfast or not, she still wanted to impress John.

Yawning, Nancy wandered back into the living room, turning the TV off and blowing out the candles. One by one, she turned the lights off and then headed back to her room. She carefully set her alarm, feeling butterflies in her stomach. Then, on impulse, she picked up a cardboard box sitting in the corner of the room – one of a few that still hadn't been completely unpacked.

Inside were about a dozen picture frames, and Nancy began to pull them out, placing them about the room on dressers and stands as she went. There was one of her Mom's side of the family at her cousin Jackie's wedding – all of them bunched up together – about thirty people. It always made her smile. There was another one of her, between her parents at her college graduation. Next was one of her and her dad – Senator Thompson and his successful young daughter. She traced her father's face. A photo or two later, she stumbled across one of she and her two older brothers, from high school, in Halloween costumes. She couldn't help but grin. Then there were her and Grant's wedding photos, but down towards the bottom, there were even older photos, wrapped in old t-shirts that she hadn't seen in a long time.

The first little package she opened was wrapped in a shirt that didn't even belong to her. Emblazoned across the front in faded letters were the letters USAF in a tired blue. John's – from his academy days. She carefully folded the shirt, intending to give it back to him.

The photo that it had been protecting was a Sheppard family photo – in front of a Christmas tree at the Ranch that Patrick had favored over all of his other houses. It was an awkward looking photo – Patrick with his arm around David, who looked slightly lost, and Nancy, buffering the Sheppard men from John, who stood to the side, arm around her body, not quite smiling into the camera. She remembered how proud Patrick had been of that photo – and how sad she'd found that considering how miserable John had been. Patrick had simply missed the mark.

There was still another wrapped photo, so she pulled that one out as well. Similar to the other one, it was wrapped around a shirt that had been John's – a Battalion shirt with his last name on the back shoulders and a Blackhawk on the front. It was so worn it was thread-bare. Nancy remembered that John had loved that shirt, so she couldn't figure out just why he'd left it behind.

Inside the safety it provided was a photo she hadn't looked at in a very long time. It was a wedding photo, taken by their photographer just as the sun was setting, overlooking the quiet lake where they'd been married up on the hill. They were standing in the middle of the empty rows of chairs that their guests had long since vacated for dinner, drinks and dancing, so it was just the two of them, the trees in the background, orange and red leaves of fall lit by the glow of the setting sun. And John had his hands around her waist, pulling her towards him, and she was looking up into his eyes.

It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

That had been a beautiful moment. While the photographer had snapped away, John had stood there in his dress uniform, taking her breath away, and telling her just how lucky he was to have her – and just how much he loved her. She'd never believed anything else in the world more than she believed him right then.

Nancy sighed. How quickly she had forgotten his words and promises. That day, not even Patrick could ruffle John's feathers – he'd been on top of the world.

Once again, Nancy folded the t-shirt with care, caressing it with her fingers before piling it with the other. She peeked back into the box – just one more wrapped frame at the bottom.

She retrieved it quickly, finding it wrapped in a Stanford shirt – barely worn by John. But he'd been proud that it didn't say Harvard. She shook her head, folded it and added it to the other two.

The last photo was a self-shot John had taken on their honeymoon in St. Lucia. They were standing on the little balcony that had attached to their room, the view stretching out over palm trees and the rich blue ocean. They were kissing, and somehow, John had managed with one free hand and arm to catch that moment, and it still made her sigh.

Carefully, she put them in the bottom drawer of her nightstand, not sure what else to do with them.

She carried the pile of t-shirts back out into the kitchen and put them on the counter so she wouldn't forget to return them to John, though for a moment, she hesitated. Nancy almost didn't want to give them back. She let out an exasperated sigh. They were just t-shirts.

Shaking her head, she returned to her bedroom and slipped into her pajamas. She turned out the main light and slid into bed, wincing at how cold the sheets were. That was one part of sleeping alone that she knew she'd never get used to.

Nancy laid there, afraid in the dark of what the next day would bring. She was excited to see John, but could barely contain her nervousness. She almost felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, but with a real fear of getting coal in her stocking instead of presents.

Wondering about what John had been up to sent her mind into all sorts of imaginative things – and it was exhausting enough to finally put her to sleep, dreaming of what tomorrow would bring with a man she still loved.

She had no idea that across town, John Sheppard was laying awake, doing just about the exact same thing.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the delay in updating. Here's chapter 3 with a little fun twist at the end. Let me know what you think.

Lady Winter

* * *

Nancy paced in the small kitchen, and for the tenth time in two minutes, she glanced at the clock. 8:55 am. Still not 9.

She sighed, pausing to glance into the mirror that was on the wall across from the kitchen.

She was pleased with her reflection. She'd opted to put her hair up now in a French twist so that there would be no need to worry about fussing with it later, and it went well enough with her outfit. Nancy didn't want to look like she was trying too hard, so she'd tried not to overstate her makeup.

Still, she was anxious. In the past few years she'd noticed crows-feet around her eyes and laugh lines that were deeper than she'd like. She was getting old. Not crazy old of course, but her body was showing her age and it made her wonder if John would be attracted to the…older her.

"There you go again, getting ahead of yourself," she groused. Nancy had to keep telling herself that for now, today was about John being a gentleman and a good person – by spending some time with his ex-wife and making sure she didn't have to face the embarrassment of attending a wedding alone.

If she did any more hoping than that, she was sure she'd be disappointed. Still, by the time she'd gotten out of the shower that morning, she'd at least been able to admit to herself that she was still in love with John, it wasn't just the loneliness of being divorced again that was talking, and that she would really like a second chance with her ex.

While she knew that this might be a set up for lost hopes and bitter disappointment, it was still better to know where she stood than to waffle back and forth.

Nancy jumped when the doorbell rang suddenly, and she cast a fleeting glance at the clock. 9 am sharp.

She couldn't help but smile a little. When John was on time…John was on time.

Trying not to look too eager, she went to the door and paused, looking through the peep hole, which revealed John's distorted face. She took one deep breath, hand on the door knob – and then she flipped the lock, and pulled the door open.

"Good morning," she managed to get out, trying not to visibly check her ex-husband out. It was hard not to though. John was standing before her, hands stuffed deeply into a dark pair of Diesel jeans, a navy blue sweater clinging to his fit upper body in a way that was enough to take her breath away. It was a turtle-neck, but had buttons at the throat that he had open, ever the casual creature that he was. She didn't mean to look, but his brown leather boots made the outfit, and as usual, his hair was as untamed as ever, but somehow just right.

"Good morning," he said, grinning at her, and she realized he was aware that she had literally just looked him over from top to bottom. He seemed amused and flattered all at once – and that was the only thing that kept Nancy's cheeks from flaming red.

"Come in," she said quickly to ease her discomfort, and stepped backwards to allow him room to enter.

"Thanks," he said, stepping through and she realized for the first time he had a garment bag with him. "I hope you don't mind, but after our breakfast date and before the wedding, I was hoping I could change here?" he asked, so polite – so unwilling to be presumptuous. That was somewhat new.

Nancy found herself nodding right away. "Of course – I didn't figure you'd wear a tux to breakfast," she teased and he gave her a brief smile.

"Actually, Dave wants me to wear my dress blues," he said casually, but she could hear the slight awe and appreciation in his voice.

Nancy could understand. For the longest time, John's career choice had been nothing short of mutiny to Patrick Sheppard, and by extension to David Sheppard. Dave had always understood far better than his father, but still, there had been times, especially when John had literally flown head first into danger that even Dave had thought the Air Force career as asinine and too dangerous. A part of David had always longed to do what John had done – buck the system – so jealousy had further seeded the dislike of all things regarding John's job. For Dave to specifically request that John wear his dress uniform was a huge sign of good faith and love.

Nancy was extremely glad that John had seen it just that way.

"I'm sure you'll have all the women gawking at you," Nancy said before she could stop herself, and seeing the surprised twinkle in John's eye, she babbled on quickly. "I mean, when you were at my office the other day, you had my secretary all but drooling…" This time, Nancy did flush red.

John smiled coyly at her like he used to when they were dating. "But not you, Nancy – you were always able to resists my charms," he joked. Nancy played along, nodding, but couldn't help thinking just how wrong he was. Sometimes just looking at him used to make her weak in the knees.

It still seemed to be still happening.

"Well, I know what's behind those pretty eyes of yours – a smart mouth," she responded, trying to cover how deeply he affected her.

He smiled at her affectionately, clearly expecting some sort of other response – a dig perhaps or a nasty reminder of how he hadn't always been the perfect husband – or she the perfect wife.

"Good to know you still remember the best parts about me," he replied in his distinctive drawl.

Nancy's smile faltered ever so slightly as she reached out to take the garment bag. "I have a lot of fond memories about you," she told him truthfully, meeting his eyes. She saw surprise there – and a flicker of something else she couldn't quite read, but she wanted to believe it was hope.

"Well, that puts us on the same page at least," John told her, finally giving her a glimmer she'd been hoping for. He still thought of her? He still thought of her fondly? That had to be a good sign.

Afraid of her response, Nancy turned and hung the bag on the door to her bedroom.

"I'm starving," she confessed finally, afraid that if she didn't say something she'd be just as likely to kiss him. It was an unbelievable urge with him standing so close – looking so good.

"Then let me escort you to breakfast," John said, motioning towards the door in a grand sweeping motion, but Nancy noted him taking in all the details of her apartment with the careful, watchful eye of a military man. Instantly, she was glad she'd tucked the photos of the two of them into a drawer – it was hard to tell just what his eagle eyes might have spotted.

"Checking for escape points?" she asked casually, and he winked at her.

"I like your décor," he responded instead. "It's….very you. Just like I imagined it," he added. Nancy felt her breath catch in her throat. He imagined what her home looked like?

"Thank you," she responded quickly, grabbing her keys and he followed her out the door. She caught him checking the hall like there might be some unseen enemy there, and it was painfully familiar from their marriage. John had never been able to "switch off" and in the past, that had bothered her to no end. Now, it was strangely comforting that he was so careful and slightly worrying – it probably meant that she was right and he was still in some dangerous posting.

Nancy locked her door and they made their way down the stairs, and he moved just a little faster to be able to open the door for her at the bottom of the stairs. It must have been a behavior that his father had driven into him because he'd never once missed opening a door for her.

Parked out front was a shiny black Porsche 911 Turbo – and it looked to be nearly brand new. Chuckling at John's penchant for fast things, she finally whistled softly at the nice looking car. "Nice ride, Flyboy."

To her surprise, John flushed. In an instant, she realized that he was afraid that she though he was trying to show off. "I borrowed it from a friend," he babbled quickly, then the lop-sided smiled appeared out of nowhere and his shoulders relaxed a little and he shrugged. "All of my cars are in storage, and Cam….Colonel Mitchell…let me borrow his car."

"Well, this is about your style anyway," she teased, remembering the nights he showed up in the old red Ferrari he used to own – a present from his father for High School graduation – maybe the last time they'd been normal and happy.

He grinned at her, opening the door and taking her hand to help her into the low slung car. Nancy resisted the urge to shiver at the warmth of his touch.

In a moment, he was around the other side of the car and sliding into the driver's seat. "If you think I like fast things, then you'd really be rolling your eyes at Cam – he flew jets."

Nancy chuckled. "Well, at least you're not the only one out there that has a taste for speed," she said, the familiar banter making her more comfortable.

John flicked her a grin from a few inches away. "We're a rare breed. So where are these great waffles? I can't tell you the last time I had real breakfast food…" he said longingly and Nancy was caught off guard by the emotion in his voice - like a man dying of thirst who was seeing water for the first time in years.

"They don't feed you well enough…wherever it is that you're stationed?" she asked worriedly. She caught him looking at her apprehensively out of the corner of her eye, and she couldn't tell if John was nervous she was going to ask where it was he was stationed or if he was worried she might react like she used to when they were married. "Sorry…was that out of line?" she asked hurriedly, worried he would shut down.

Instead, he smiled softly. "We just don't get regular shipments, so we eat a lot of…local cuisine," he told her in a way that made it sound more like it was some sort of alien food than just something foreign he'd never tried. "I think I dreamed about eggs and bacon for weeks straight after we first got there," he said, personally amused at himself.

"Well, we'd better get you fed then. It's in Arlington – maybe twenty minutes?" she added and he nodded.

"You can be my co-pilot," John replied with his patented smile and revved the engine, pulling out into traffic smoothly and Nancy caught some people walking by admiring the car.

"So your friend…Colonel Mitchell? Must make a lot of money," she said to carry on the conversation.

"All hazard pay," John joked, then glanced at her. "The military does pay well if you do well," he reminded her, and she felt a bit sad, because she knew that Patrick Sheppard had always thought of the Air Force as a poor man's place to be – where you went if you had no other recourse.

"I deal with quite a few General's in fancy cars – trust me, I know," she told him with a serious tone. "Are you saying you're rolling in the dough these days?" she added teasingly.

To her surprise, John smiled in amusement. "Actually, yeah," he said, turning an honest smile towards her. "Not that I'm trying to brag, but I was stationed...in a place where coming home was nearly impossible for about three and a half years, and even now that it's…easier… I'm so busy, I rarely get back. And where I am – there's absolutely no need for money – at least personal finance. The Air Force sees to all my needs, so all my pay, a lot of which is hazard pay, has been piling up in a bank account that Dave set up for me – something really great with high returns," he added, clearly impressed with his brother.

Nancy smiled appreciatively. John had never wanted to take money from the family, but he'd been raised in a youth full of privilege, and he'd always bought her the finest things, even when it was just on his Lieutenant's salary.

"So, you're pretty well set up then – your own fortune," she said with a grin.

"I can't believe I just told you all of that," John responded, an odd, half-horrified look on his face.

Before Nancy could stop herself, she had reached out to grip his hand. "Don't. Don't second guess yourself. You only told me because…."

She trailed off, afraid to be too presumptuous.

"Because I trust you still," John finished her sentence and held her gaze, squeezing her hand briefly, and then his eyes flickered back to the road. "I wasn't trying to…show off, I swear," he added.

Nancy felt a giggle bubble to the surface. "I know."

John glanced at her with a perturbed look.

"What do you mean you know?" he asked with a mock glare.

She couldn't help but smiled at him and was pleasantly surprised to see him look at her the way he used to over breakfast – an odd adoration in his eyes.

"Out of all the men I've ever known, John Sheppard, you are the least likely to ever go on about yourself – you never try to impress people or tell them how great you are. Half the people we knew when we were married never knew you were the son of a business mogul – that you were rich. The only time you ever showed off was when you were being you – doing what you do best – helping other people, doing your job…and that wasn't really showing off – it was just you – being you. You're the last person in the world I would ever think was bragging."

John had a slightly shocked look on his face, and quickly returned his eyes to the road after her little speech.

Instantly, Nancy was afraid she'd said too much.

"John I…" she trailed off when she realized that she was still clutching his hand and that he was clutching back in return. "Turn left here," she warned, sliding back into her seat a little.

John made the turn, then glanced at her.

"Thanks for saying all that Nancy. I…guess I never looked at it that way. And I certainly thought for sure I'd lost all of your good opinion."

The confession startled her.

"Turn right," she said quickly, taking in his words. "There were a lot of things I did back then that if I could, I would change," she said.

"Me too," John told her earnestly.

They made eye contact for a moment, and Nancy almost missed another turn.

"Oh! Left right here!" she said, and the spell was broken.

"So, how's work?" John asked quietly. "I couldn't believe it when Dave told me a few years back that you were in Homeland Security… I thought for sure some big firm would have tried to snap you up."

Nancy nodded. "Actually, that almost happened. But you know my dad…he didn't want me doing something that he thought wasn't worthwhile. God, Corp and Country – you know the drill," she said, speaking fondly of her Senator father who had once been a decorated Marine. "When I was offered the director job, I jumped at it – but only after I made sure Daddy didn't…arrange it," she added.

Her father had loved John as a son he'd never had, despite the good natured ribbing about him being in the "Chair Force." Both of her parents had been crushed when Nancy's marriage had ended, but they had carefully stayed out of her way and let her handle the situation on her own.

John was smiling, probably at a fond memory of her father. "Ah yes, the Colonel…how is he?" he asked a bit longingly.

"He and mom are good," Nancy assured him, touched that he truly sounded like he missed them. "Dad's still pushing his personal arms reform bill," she laughed. "And mom's still the best politician's wife ever… They'd love to see you, John," she added.

John glanced at her again, a somewhat wishful look on his face.

"That would be really nice. You know, your mom still sends me a Christmas card – every year. For a while, where we were stationed, we didn't get mail for several years – and when it all came… Well, it meant a lot to me to see her handwriting."

Nancy felt unexpected tears prick her eyes. "Where ever it is you were – you are still – I'm sorry it sounds so lonely," she said.

A strange look passed over John's face.

"Actually, for the first time ever, I found where I belong," he told her earnestly. "They need me there – they…want me there. And there a lot of really great people that keep the loneliness at bay." He was silent for a moment. "But I still miss things about being back here," he added and Nancy couldn't help but wonder at the exact wording he'd used. 'Back here' must have implied the United States she figured, since DC certainly had never been home for John. But more than that, she wanted to hope he was implying that he missed her.

She studied his face for a moment – so relaxed and carefree. He was certainly older – had a few more lines on his face and she could see instantly that he'd seen some very bad times, but there was more – a true sense of self that she'd never really seen in him before.

"I'm really glad John – I hope you know, that despite everything, I've always really wanted you to be happy."

"I feel the same way about you," he told her, guilt and conviction in his voice.

The conversation might have gone further but suddenly she realized they were almost there.

"Up ahead – on the right. See that big, flashing neon sign?" she asked, and saw the instant grin blossom on John's face. She'd known that he would love the venue.

"Great – because I'm starved," he reiterated and soon had the Porsche rolling into a parking spot, and momentarily, he was opening her door. It was a short walk inside and soon enough, they were being seated in sparkly red plastic seats in the old diner Nancy had discovered a few years before.

John was practically glowing. "I love this place already," he told her and they were both pleased when it took just a short time before they both found themselves ordering.

Nancy sat there and laughed in her seat as John ordered.

"Two waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, an English muffin…and home fries," he told the waiter as if he were a starving man. The waiter seemed to be amused as well, especially when Nancy ordered only a waffle with strawberries on top and a side of bacon. "What?" John asked in confusion after the waiter walked away.

"You weren't kidding about missing breakfast food, I see."

John laughed. "You would too if you were eating what I've been eating – and the powdered eggs they serve on base…gross," he added.

"You poor thing."

"You have no idea," he said, painting a pitiful mask on his face.

She was about to speak again to further tease him, but suddenly a shadow fell over their table, and both of them looked up automatically.

Nancy stared with shock, her mouth dropping open. It was the last place in the entire world she would have ever expected to find Grant. After all – he hated unhealthy breakfasts, and Nancy had no idea he even knew that the diner existed.

To his credit, he looked just as shocked, but for an entirely different reason.

"Well…hello Nancy…and hello, John. Long time, no see."


	4. Chapter 4

Wow…what a delay. Thought I had abandoned this story…but it turns out I still love it. If other people still love it, I'll continue.

Lady Winter

* * *

Nancy stared up at her now ex-husband in shock, so caught off guard that she didn't immediately know what to do or say.

John looked just as shocked, but she briefly caught a look of suspicion and even irritation cross his face.

"Fancy meeting you here, Grant," John said stiffly, almost immediately taking control of the situation. Nancy didn't want to admit it, but she was grateful.

"I could say the same thing," Grant said darkly. It took him a moment to tear his eyes off of John before he turned his attention to Nancy. "Well, that was fast," he snarked.

Immediately, Nancy caught his meaning and felt an angry heat rising in her cheeks. "Excuse me?" she asked in a deadly tone that she mostly reserved for arguing her point at work – which most intelligent people knew was a good sign they were in over their heads.

"Or…maybe it wasn't fast," Grant added, his fists balling a little. His face turned slightly purple. "Have you been seeing him all this time? Since the wake?" he demanded.

"Woah," John said, intercepting the conversation, waving one hand placatingly. "We're just here, having breakfast as old friends," he soothed and although Nancy was grateful that he was trying to diffuse the situation, she felt a sharp stab of pain, wondering if that was all this actually was – breakfast between two friends who had a complicated past.

Grant's attention had immediately switched back to John, and Nancy could see what appeared to be true hatred and jealousy in his eyes. "That sounds likely," he said scathingly. "A few days after we sign divorce papers, and I find the two of you all cozy and smiling on some breakfast date…" he trailed off as his face took on a contorted, horrified expression. "…no doubt after a night together," he managed to choke out bitterly. "I'm so happy for you," he sneered at Nancy.

Nancy stared at him, absolutely dumbstruck. She had never once seen Grant lose his composure like this. Even when they'd fought, he'd always been relatively calm and collected. She'd never seen his ire truly raised – certainly he never lost control like this. The closest he'd come was arguing with her about her decision to attend Patrick Sheppard's wake. This was so out of character for him that she hardly knew how to respond.

"We're just having breakfast," John stated firmly, still trying to placate Grant. They were starting to draw a few stares from the patrons around them.

Grant snorted in derision. "You think you can lie to me? I know everything!" he snapped.

Finally, Nancy found her voice. "What are you going on about?" she asked angrily. "John is in town for Dave's wedding and we're having breakfast together – like two civilized people – something you obviously know nothing about," she couldn't help but snark. "You and I are now divorced," she reminded him. "A decision you made," she added.

"I found those emails," Grant said accusingly, staring Nancy down. Nancy stared back at him, wondering what in the world he was so upset about. John was listening with barely concealed frustration and confusion, his hands twitching like he wanted to shoot Grant and drag him out of there, but clearly realized that wasn't the smart thing to do.

"What emails?" Nancy demanded, embarrassed that they were causing a scene. To her, it seemed like the rest of the restaurant was entirely silent.

"The emails from Dave Sheppard – keeping you up to date about John," Grant said hotly. "I found them on the computer… Months and months of you, wanting to know how your ex-husband was…"

Nancy instantly flushed, her eyes darting to John, who looked oddly surprised, but hardly upset.

"Those are none of your business," Nancy snapped in a hushed tone. "You're making a fool of yourself Grant."

"You're right – I am a fool," he said quickly. "A fool to think that you were ever over John Sheppard. Your father tried to warn me…tried to tell me that you two would come back around to each other – that you never stopped loving this stupid, irresponsible flyboy," he continued, jealousy heavy in every word. "And he was obviously right – and now it's pretty clear," he said, implying that Nancy had obviously been cheating on him with John.

"That's enough," John ordered coolly as he stood in a fluid, dangerous motion. He and Grant were of the same height although John was slimmer, but for some reason, he looked far more imposing than the lawyer. "I think you've said what you wanted to say, you should go," he said evenly, not raising his voice in any way, but there was no question that there was a threat behind his words.

Grant glared at him, and if Nancy didn't know better, she would have thought that he was drunk from the way he was behaving. He'd never been overly courageous, especially not physically – he chose to fight his battles with words - and he should have known that John was trained to kill if necessary – that should have been enough to send him out the door - but none of this was within any sort of realm of the Grant she'd thought she'd known, so there was no telling how he'd respond.

"What are you going to do? Shoot me? That would be about on par with that black mark on your record," Grant taunted. Instantly, Nancy regretted ever mentioning that bit of information to Grant.

Nancy held her breath. Even though they had been divorced at the time, she knew John well enough to know he had to be sensitive about the incident that had gotten him relegated to the Arctic – the last posting that was visible on John's record. With her clearance, Nancy couldn't help but look into the incident and knew that despite the fact that John had disobeyed a direct order, he had saved two of three lives, and brought his Blackhawk out undamaged.

To his credit, John simply stared Grant down with a disapproving shake of the head. "I'm not going to shoot you – that's far too messy," he drawled. Although he didn't say anything more, his words clearly conveyed that he could do far worse if he wished. "You're embarrassing yourself and you've been rude for no reason, you should go," he said simply.

Grant bristled. "Don't speak down to me! You think you can sleep with my wife and then speak to me like a child?" he roared. Now Nancy knew everyone was staring at them, and she was mortified. The restaurant manager looked like he wanted to ask them to leave, but also seemed intimidated by John and came no closer.

"Whatever you think is or has been going on between Nancy and I is purely your imagination," John assured him. "Now I suggest you go before the police are called and it's all over tonight's news that Grant Allen, prominent DC lawyer, was arrested for disturbing the peace and has been served with a restraining order by his ex-wife."

Finally, these words had the effect John had been hoping for all along – Grant's pride flared and he flushed deeply red. Nancy was a little impressed – in the past, John would have yelled back – maybe even truly threatened physical violence. Now he seemed to have full control over himself and the situation.

Grant turned to go, and then turned back, staring Nancy down. "He's never going to love you again – not after what you did to him," he spat, then stormed from the building, leaving snickering patrons in his wake.

Nancy sat riveted in her seat, absolutely appalled. John didn't immediately sit, instead he was apologizing to the manager, showing the man his Air Force identification and assuring him that there would be no further disruptions. For her part, Nancy was grateful to have a moment, and she desperately tried to compose herself.

Grant had only once or twice implied that he thought she might potentially still have feelings for her ex-husband – but that had only come after the wake. Normally, he was so confident and composed and very smug. Only in the last days had he seemed insecure, but he had never listed suspecting her feelings as a reason for divorce. To see him so unglued and so angry – and so jealous – brought her up short. After all, he had initiated their separation and then their divorce. If anything, Nancy had privately wondered if he had been seeing another woman on the side.

To find him there, at the diner, so full of jealousy and anger absolutely floored her – especially when the divorce had truly been his decision. She could more than admit to herself that she'd no longer been totally invested in their marriage, but she hadn't even contemplated divorce. Although she'd wanted to see John at the wake, she hadn't even really began to consider him again with any hope until eight months ago when Grant had officially separated from her.

Now, she was faced with the unbelievably uncomfortable situation of having to deal with the fallout from Grant stumbling across her and John – and his obvious assumptions of an affair, not to mention apparently long hidden beliefs that she'd always held a candle for her ex. Facing this on her own would have been one thing – but to have had this all said and shouted out in public – and worse yet, in front of John, was absolutely enough to make her want to throw up.

She was hardly prepared when John sat back down across from her and flashed her a reassuring grin.

"Don't worry, our breakfast is still on the way," he announced as if nothing at all had just happened.

Nancy could feel herself blinking at him owlishly. "What?" she asked, her voice coming out in an embarrassing squeak.

John's smile widened fondly, like he missed that little nervous tell of hers.

"Well, the cook burned your waffle, so it'll be another minute or two…but our breakfast will be out soon."

Nancy took a minute and just stared at him, and felt unexpected anger boiling up inside of her. It was so like John Sheppard to ignore that something major had just occurred – something upsetting – something that needed to be dealt with. She was about to go off of him when he reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"Don't let him get to you Nance," he soothed. The gesture took all of the wind out of her sails. Was he really going to confront what had happened? "I'm sure it was just unexpected for him to see us together – and I know how much he dislikes me, especially because of how I treated you during our marriage…" he added, trailing off uncertainly, no doubt in response to the baffled and shocked look Nancy was sure she was giving him. "What?" he asked worriedly. "Are you alright?" Concern blossomed on his face almost immediately.

Nancy puffed out a breath. "Aren't you…upset by what he said?" she asked, almost wishing she could stop herself. Surely there was a good chance he thought that Grant's jealousy was coming from somewhere…and the emails from Dave…

"I'm upset that he attacked you," John corrected carefully, eyes darting around as if looking for an escape and Nancy was afraid that everything had been properly ruined. Then, his eyes found hers again. "I know people say things when they're angry that they don't mean," he said guiltily, and for a moment, they were both silent, thinking about their own divorce. While Grant's outburst had completely surprised Nancy, her's and John's divorce had been filled with yelling, blaming, and accusing – mostly from her – and John always with an excuse or an explanation. Nancy knew that she had said quite a few things she'd later wished she could have taken back – and from the look on John's face, he felt the same way. Often though, it had been what he never said – what he never fought for – that had driven her crazy.

"I hope you know we didn't divorce because…. I mean, Grant ended out relationship because…." She stuttered, suddenly feeling very raw and vulnerable. "It wasn't you," she blurted.

"Nancy…you don't have to tell me why. It's ok. We're just two old friends, having breakfast…remember?" he said gently, and while Nancy was grateful that he was letting her off the hook, his words hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

Privately, she hoped against hope that he was just saying the things he thought he was supposed to say – after all, despite Anita's belief that reuniting with one's ex-spouse was now common place, it hardly seemed conventional to Nancy. What had she been expecting? For him to eagerly ask if she still loved him? If she'd never stopped?

"Right…of course," she said quickly, and mustered the courage for one of the fakest smiles she'd ever worn. "Grant just caught me off guard," she said, waving her hand dismissively, trying to convince herself and John that she wasn't shaken or embarrassed that Grant had been so very close to the actual truth – minus the obvious affair he assumed them to be having. "And you're right…people say crazy things when they're upset!" she continued, her voice rising in pitch like it did when she was selling a line like the best of used car salesmen.

The unfortunate part was that John knew her all too well and saw right through the façade. Nancy could literally see it on his face, and he looked about to call her on it when their breakfast arrived.

The bubbly, skinny little blond smiled brightly at both of them, though her eyes lingered on John longer than Nancy liked.

"Sorry for the delay," the waitress said cheerfully as she set their plates in front of them. "That was quite the scene," she babbled, like she'd just seen the best new movie. "And that was so sweet of you to come to her defense!" she proclaimed, turning darkly makeup-ed eyes on John, as she openly flirted. "I didn't think men were so chivalrous anymore!"

John smiled widely up at her and Nancy felt her stomach clench in jealousy and frustration, despite knowing that the man sitting across from her had absolutely no interest in the silly young woman.

"Thanks, but I was just setting him straight," John assured her. "Thanks for the food," he said, gesturing to their meals, obviously dismissing her. She gave a little giggle and bounced away even as Nancy caught John roll his eyes ever so slightly.

Almost immediately, John dug into his massive pile of breakfast delights, and Nancy caught the waitress sizing her up, clearly wondering how attached Nancy and John were. Childishly, Nancy flashed her a catty smile that indicated that despite the young woman's obvious appeal, John belonged entirely to her. She was glad that John was too engrossed in his food to notice.

Sighing softly at her own actions and the disastrous events on the morning, she turned her own attention to her own waffle and hoped John would say nothing more of Grant, Grant's assertion that she was obviously still in love with John, their supposed affair, or the emails from Dave.

Cutting off a chunk of waffle, she realized that at least one thing hadn't changed – there was no chance that a day with John Sheppard was ever going to be anything less than eventful.


End file.
